


I hope I die in the arms of a child

by starlightwalking



Series: in the midst of the innumerable stars [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Back to Middle-Earth Month, Enemies to Lovers, Follows Canon Plot, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Weird Biology, everyone is a disaster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-11-09 05:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17995718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: When Nellas brings a kid on board their ship, Beleg has no idea how much Turin Turambar will change his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This got out of control! I wanted it to be a few snapshots of Nellas and Beleg in a space setting, then it morphed into a Star Wars AU, then I got caught up in kid!Turin, and now I want to adapt all of the Narn into this setting! If I get more prompts for this month that fit with it, I'll definitely return to this story- I have ideas for more chapters!
> 
> Disclaimer: I've seen all of the Star Wars movies (except for the Han Solo one) and I've had a few SW-obsessed friends, but that's as far as my knowledge goes. I'm not looking to be too accurate to SW canon here.
> 
> My bingo squares for 3/3 (i'm late, oops) were "charade/amber/colony/moment" from the Four Words card (I'm ignoring the drabble part of that again), "Knight" from the Archetypes card, and Beleg/Nellas from the Silmarillion Fanon Trope Inversion card. I honestly didn't know Beleg/Nellas was a thing?? But it was fun to write their fake relationship!
> 
> The title is a line from a song by the band Stars, "Time Can Never Kill the True Heart". :))))
> 
> I didn't get any bingo squares for tomorrow, so no Tolkien fic on 3/4. However, I do plan on posting a TAZ oneshot I wrote a few months ago for a zine! Keep your eyes peeled for that :)

Beleg knew something was off as soon as he got back to the ship. The lights were dimmed, Nellas wasn't there, and he could hear faint, unfamiliar noises coming from the sleeping quarters. His hand drifted to the blaster at his belt as he crept closer to his bed. A bundle of dark fabric lay, twitching, atop his mattress. There was someone there.

There was a sound behind him. Beleg spun around, his blaster aimed toward the commotion, only to see Nellas.

She squeaked and jumped backwards. "Beleg!" she hissed. "What's gotten into you?"

"There's someone here," he growled, jerking his head toward the body in the bed.

"Yes, and you'll wake him up if you don't keep your voice down," she scolded. She brushed past him, kneeling at the figure's side. "He's been injured, the poor child."

"What—" Beleg sighed. "You brought another stray home?"

"He was half dead when I found him," Nellas protested. "Did you want me to leave him there? He's only a lad."

Beleg wanted to protest, but he kept silent. He knew Nellas wouldn't change her mind, and it was useless to fight her. "We can't keep him for long," he warned instead. "We have to retreat to the Girdle. Thingol needs the intel we got from the colony, and this place will be swarming with Orctroopers soon."

"You can take off anytime," Nellas said. "I've got what I needed for him."

"We can't take him back to Doriath!" Beleg exclaimed. "Thingol will have our heads if we bring him an outsider. And he  _can't_  find out why we're here."

Nellas turned to glare at him. "We can't leave him here. He's been shot. I talked to him before he passed out, you know. His mother sent him away from here, all on his own. The Empire destroyed his village."

Beleg ground his teeth. "When did you find him?" he demanded.

"Not an hour ago." Nellas uncovered the boy's face, and Beleg saw the pale, sleeping face of a Human child. Beleg and Nellas were Quendi, but he'd been around enough Humans to know that this boy was far too young to be sent away from his mother. "He'd just escaped the Orctroopers..."

"We've got to get going, then!" Beleg said. "Why didn't you call me back right away?"

"I knew you were on your way, and I needed to get bandages. We ran out a few days ago when you got bit by that creature in the colony, remember?"

"I'll argue with you later," Beleg muttered, heading to the cockpit. "Let's get going."

* * *

By the time they were safely in hyperspace, Nellas had fully bandaged the kid. Beleg watched as she cozied him in his bed, and realized that she expected him to sleep on the floor for the time being. He sighed.

"You would have taken him in, too," Nellas said quietly. "He had two guardians with him. The Orctroopers killed them. But I could save him."

"What are we going to do with him?" Beleg replied. "We can't let Thingol know we've got an outsider—"

"Thingol?" whispered another voice.

Beleg and Nellas turned to face the child. His eyes were open wide—a clear, piercing amber. Beleg shivered. His eyes had seen too much horror for his age.

"You know Lord Thingol?" the child asked.

Beleg and Nellas exchanged a quick glance. "We work for him," Beleg said cautiously. "We're—messengers for the king."

"My mother sent me to find Doriath," the child said. "She told me that Lord Thingol would take me in."

Beleg didn't know what to say to that. Who  _was_  this Human child, sent to Thingol's mercy?

"Oh, darling..." Nellas laid a hand on him. "We'll take you to Thingol."

"We will?" Beleg said. Nellas glared, and he repeated, "Yes, of course we will." She owed him for this, massively.

"My name is Nellas," she said. "What are you called, little one?"

"I'm not little," he protested. "I'm nine!"

"She asked your name, kid," Beleg said tiredly. He was no good with children, and Nellas's dirty looks were only a reminder.

"I am Túrin, son of Húrin," the child said seriously. "My mother is Morwen Eledhwen."

Beleg's heart skipped a beat. Ah,  _shit_. Húrin was a great Jedi Knight, captured by Darth Morgoth in the last disastrous battle. All of Doriath, even Thingol, respected him. If this was truly Húrin's son, Nellas had just tangled them up into a dreadful tale Beleg couldn't see the end of.

"Well, Túrin, I promise that we'll do our best to get you to Lord Thingol," Nellas promised. "Beleg and I have to see him, anyway." Their mission had been to collect intelligence on the colony of insect-monsters the Empire was breeding on this planet, but compared to having accidentally rescued Húrin Thalion's son... Beleg was suddenly very grateful Nellas had convinced him to let the kid stay. This was vastly more important.

"Mother said the Quendi would find me," Turiin said, eyes full of hope. "She's coming, too, but she has to wait. She's going to have another baby. But she said you'd find me."

"We came looking for you," Nellas assured him, and no amount of nudging from Beleg would get her to stop. "My husband and I, we—"

"Nellas, can I talk to you a moment?" Beleg interrupted, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of Túrin's earshot.

"What is it?" Nellas asked, raising an eyebrow. "This is Húrin Thalion's child! You can't want to abandon him now!"

"No, of course not," Beleg agreed. "But  _husband_? You didn't have to  _lie_  to him."

"He already thought we'd been sent for him," Nellas pointed out, "I just confirmed it. Important folk, even children, think everything is about them. The least we can do is let him think he's loved, for now. That's easier if we're married."

"I'm not going to pretend to be your husband forever," Beleg said.

"You don't have to," Nellas said. "Just say you're busy with your missions. I'll take care of him."

"You've already decided to adopt him?" Beleg exclaimed, struggling to keep his voice down.

"Thingol can't turn him away," Nellas said. "He'll need a caretaker. And I'm sick of being a field agent, anyway."

"Why did you have to rope me into this?" Beleg groaned. "Fine. I'll let him think we're married, as long as you do the mothering."

"You'd be an excellent mother," Nellas teased. "Now why don't you get Túrin some food?"

* * *

Thingol was almost as fond of Túrin as Nellas was, it turned out. He approved of her scheme, setting up a home for Nellas and the child immediately.

"As for you two being married..." Thingol tapped his chin. "Well, it won't hurt the lad to have a stable family. I'll spread the word."

"My lord," Beleg protested.

Thingol waved his hand. "Yes, yes, I know you aren't actually married. Beleg, I'll send you on more missions—as a captain, this time. It will keep you out of the house, and you are free to frolick as you will. You only have to keep up appearances when you visit."

Beleg fell silent, appeased. He would put up with this charade if it meant a promotion and few real responsibilities.

"And when he's old enough, we'll tell him the truth," Nellas promised. "Humans age quickly, remember?"

"Alright," Beleg agreed. He paused. "Is Lady Morwen coming to Doriath, my lord?"

"That will be your first mission," Thingol declared. "Find the child's mother. She has been captured by now, doubtless. The wife of a Jedi Knight will be watched closely. If you can locate her, we may be able to send an extraction team to rescue her."

"Yes, Lord Thingol." Beleg bowed.

"And Nellas..." Thingol turned his gaze to her. "You must be careful with little Túrin. He is his father's son. The Force is with him, as it is with all his blood. We need soldiers in our war, and having a young Jedi in our ward is dangerous. Be gentle, and do not turn him to a path of darkness. He may become a Knight himself, in time."

Nellas smiled. "I knew he had a great fate when I first took him in, my lord. I will not disappoint you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turin's all grown up. Featuring: weird elf biology? I don't know, man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not proofread this. Oops.
> 
> I'm catching up on B2MEM! This chapter was for 3/10. The bingo squares for the day were Queen from the Archetypes card and "Beware, my lord, of jealousy..." from the Shakespeare Quotes card. Since there was no fandom-specific prompt, I returned to this AU with very loose interpretations of both those prompts, lol.
> 
> This got...weird? Again, I'd like to stress that I know next to nothing about Star Wars. This is just the Narn, but in space and also Turin has a lightsaber. If I want to make the elves glow, I'm fucking gonna.
> 
> Turin is like. At least 25 here. Beleg has no concept of time on a Human scale. Also, at least a few months pass between the two sections of this fic. Like I said - I didn't proofread this, just kinda spat it out. Hope you enjoy anyway!

Beleg did not usually report to Queen Melian, but Thingol was busy on official business, so he made his way to her chambers instead. He was exhausted from the tribulations of patrolling the borders of Doriath, and he was down nearly fifty warriors.

"It is good to see you, Captain," Melian said softly, her voice melodic and enthralling. Beleg had to concentrate to pay attention to her words; her species, the Maia, could gain control of one's mind if one did not guard themself.

"You as well, my queen." Beleg bowed.

"What is the news from the border?" she asked.

Beleg sighed. "It's bad out there," he admitted. "The Girdle protects us, but only so much. The Empire knows we're here, and there's always someone waiting for us to venture out for supplies or information. We've lost three spy ships, and almost fifty fighter ships."

"I shall send replacements," Melian said. "Is there anything else?"

Beleg hesitated. He knew it was a long shot, and that Thingol would not think it wise, but this was Queen Melian. He had to ask. "Yes, my lady," he said. "I'd like another captain at the border. Mablung and Ithilbor work together  _and_  they have lieutenants. My section is struggling. And—" He grimaced. "And I might be able to take more risks if I know there's someone else commanding my soldiers. I could have saved those spies, if I'd had backup."

Melian stared at him, unblinking. It took all of Beleg's strength not to buckle to his knees. At last, she turned away, sipping at a glass of wine. "I will see what I can do. We do not have any captains available, but there is a young lieutenant we may be able to lend to you, if you are willing to train him."

"Of course," Beleg said instantly.

"You should know..." Melian laughed softly. "He is your son."

"My—" Beleg didn't understand at first, but soon he fell silent. "You mean Túrin." Beleg hadn't seen the lad in years; in his mind, he was still a surly preteen. But Humans aged quicker than Quendi, and that meant Túrin was full-grown by now.

"Yes," Melian said. "You may want to tell him the truth about you and Nellas. He has been asking why you are never around."

"Yes, my lady," Beleg said. Part of him resented this assignment—he had not agreed to babysit!—but he would take what he could get.

"Dismissed, Captain," Melian said. With a flick of her hand, Beleg spun around, not entirely of his own free will. It seemed that in his distraction her power had got ahold of him. It was some Force-sensitive thrall, he thought as he trudged back "home" to where Nellas and Túrin awaited him. Could young Túrin have such power, too?

* * *

The answer was  _no_ , not at all. Túrin, full of power and skill with not only a blaster but a lightsaber as well, had the kind of abilities that were wildly out of control. Beleg did his best to constrain his new lieutenant, but...he had  _other_  problems to think about.

Túrin was an adult now. Tall (for a Human), intelligent, and—and  _attractive_. He was the kind of young man Beleg would have flirted with easily on the battlefield, if it were not for the complicated familial situation.

"Túrin," Beleg said one day, "I've got something to tell you."

Túrin looked at him with something odd in his amber eyes, one eyebrow quirked. "Yeah?"

"Nellas and I—"

But before he could spill the beans, an alarm went off in the station. Beleg swore, jumping to his feet. "Enemies at the border!" he cried. "Everyone, get into your ships—"

"Mine's getting repairs," Túrin said with a frown. "Could I share yours?"

"Yes," Beleg replied curtly. "You can command from there—I'll need to focus on defense of the Girdle."

Túrin grinned. He was always begging Beleg to let him take command. "Excellent!" He jumped into the ship as Beleg continued to give orders to the other soldiers.

When Beleg finally joined him, Túrin had already turned on his com and was giving orders to the rest of the soldiers. "Beleg's put me in charge," he said. Beleg could hear his voice right next to him, but also in his ear as he switched on his own com. "Saeros, you take up the back."

"I'm not about to let some Human—" Saeros protested, but Beleg cut him off.

"He's in command," Beleg ordered. "Do as he says. I'm one of you for the day."

After that, everyone obeyed. There were only so many enemy ships—a routine scouting squad, come a few days earlier than expected. At least, Beleg  _hoped_  it was routine. If this was a diversion...

They took care of the fighters with no casualties on either side. All the enemy ships retreated within a half hour, and Túrin congratulated his warriors with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Beleg caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye: he was beaming, more handsome in his excitement than ever.

They landed, and everyone swarmed Túrin, cheering his name. Even Saeros, who resented him more than anyone else, clapped him on the shoulder warmly. Túrin let them all go back to their quarters early, and turned to face Beleg with that grin still spread wide across his face.

Túrin embraced him, and Beleg held on for a moment longer than he should have. When they broke apart, Túrin's smile was gone, replaced with—something else.

"What was it you were going to tell me?" he asked.

"Oh." Beleg had forgotten about that. "Well, Nellas and I..."

"Are you gonna have a kid?" Túrin blurted out. Beleg blinked, astonished by the idea.

"What?" he said.

"It's just—" Túrin scowled. If Beleg didn't know better, he would think Túrin looked... _jealous_. "She's been feeling sick lately, pretty much since the last time you came with me to visit, and she  _is_  your wife...My mother got ill when she was pregnant. I thought maybe..."

"It's not that at all," Beleg assured him. "Túrin, it's the opposite of that. I was about to tell you that Nellas and I aren't actually married."

It was Túrin's turn to be astonished. "What?"

"We're not married," Beleg repeated.

"But you told me... When I was just a kid, and you found me on Dor-lómin—"

" _Nellas_  told you. It wasn't my idea." Beleg shook his head. "She thought if you were raised in a family, instead of just by one woman, it would be good for you."

"You weren't ever around," Túrin said slowly. "And...she never could answer my questions about your honeymoon. And—you're really not married!" He laughed. "I am  _so_ relieved."

"Why?" Beleg asked. "I thought you'd feel betrayed."

"Nellas has been, uh... _seeing_  someone," Túrin confessed. "She tried to hide it from me, but I can tell. Maybe it's  _that_  guy's kid she's having..."

"I wouldn't know," Beleg admitted. "I don't think Quendi feel ill when they're pregnant, but I haven't been around many child-bearing folks. I hope it's that, or nothing serious."

"That's not the only reason," Túrin said. He didn't meat Beleg's eyes. He rubbed his slowly-flushing neck. "I, uh...Oh, nevermind."

"What?" Beleg said. He laid a hand on Túrin's shoulder. Túrin glanced up at him, that same intensity shining in his eyes. His captivating amber eyes.

"Nothing," Túrin mumbled.

Beleg cupped Túrin's head and kissed him slowly. Túrin stood still for a moment, before kissing back with a passion that took Beleg aback. He wrapped his arms around Beleg and drew him close—Beleg felt himself heat up, burning from the inside out—

Túrin pulled back. His eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open in shock. "B—Beleg!" he gasped.

Beleg slumped. "I'm sorry," he said. "If that wasn't—I know you thought I was practically your father—"

"You're glowing," Túrin said in awe.

Beleg looked down, horrified to see that his skin had begun to emit a pale yellow light. Now that he was conscious of it, the light shone brighter, more intense. He had never felt more embarrassed.

"Oh, this is..." He slapped his own forehead. "Túrin, I... Quendi, we have this biological trait where our body goes into an automatic response cycle when we're—" He grimaced. "When we're—"

"When you're horny, yeah, I know," Túrin said, awed. "I...Nellas is blue. She tries to wait until she's back to normal before coming home from whoever's house it is she's banging, but... And I'm, uh, an adult. I've...stimulated a few other Quendi."

"I usually don't get this way so fast," Beleg mumbled. Every self-conscious thought only made him glow brighter; he pulled his arms up into his sleeves to try and mask the light. "It's...been a while. And I've been—wanting, uh, you for...awhile."

"I'm  _so_  glad Humans don't glow," Túrin said fervently.

"You blush," Beleg said slyly. He placed a hand on Túrin's reddening neck. "You're turned on, too."

"Shut up," Túrin hissed, pulling him in for another kiss. If that was how he was going to do it, Beleg didn't mind.

They stumbled back into Túrin's quarters, heated in more ways than one. Beleg lit up the dark room with only his skin, and as Túrin stripped him of his clothing the light filled every corner.

"Wait," he rasped. "Before we—is this weird, Túrin? I want you—but I'm a few hundred years old, and you thought I was married to your mother—"

"Nellas isn't my mother," Túrin said hoarsely. "I remember my mother. She's more like...an aunt. Hell, the  _queen_  is more a mother to me than Nellas. She's the one who first explained the... glowing thing to me. And everyone on this planet is older than me. I'm used to it."

"So this is all—it's all fine?" Beleg asked. "I want to be sure."

"More than fine," Túrin assured, nipping at his lip. "I want you to be so bright you blind me, Beleg. The only weird thing is that I was jealous of  _Nellas_ , for having you all to herself and then some on the side!"

"Beware of jealousy," Beleg teased. "You'll make a poor Jedi if you can't control your emotion."

"Fuck the Jedi," Túrin said. "If I can't have you, I don't need the Force."

Beleg could wait no longer. He held Túrin tightly, and glowed all night long.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beleg and Turin deal with some difficulties. Some of their methods are better than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this story is about halfway done! Two more chapters, maybe? I don't know, I'm making this up as I go along, which is very different from how I usually write. We'll see!!
> 
> For B2MeM, 3/15. The only prompt for that day was "Simpleton" from the Archetypes card. The simpleton is Saeros, but like... there are a lot of poor decisions in this chapter.
> 
> Again, this chapter isn't proofread and it's not my best work, but I'm having fun and that's what matters, right??

Quendi had a loose concept of time compared to Humans, but even to Beleg this burst of happiness felt shorter than it should have been.

At first, the only problem was the knowing looks of their comrades. Saeros got snippy and accused Beleg of favoritism, but he shut up after Beleg offered to transfer him to a more dangerous position.

The next time Túrin visited home, Beleg went with him. He and Nellas cleared things up between them: they officially dissolved their "marriage" and remained friends, while Nellas was happy to announce she was pregnant with the child of that friend she'd been seeing. Túrin and Beleg were in the clear.

Beleg reported to his superiors, glad there was nothing too serious going on in his section of the border. King Thingol warned him to keep close track of when the Imperial scouts attacked; Mablung had reported an increase in their frequency, and he wanted to see if that was true across the board. Queen Melian praised his abilities as a mentor, and Beleg was faintly surprised at her affection for Túrin. It seemed that she, rather than Nellas, truly had been a mother figure to him as a youth.

Beleg was happy. He was secure in his job, favored by the rulers of Doriath, and he was with Túrin. The foreseeable future looked bright as his skin when Túrin kissed him.

But Túrin was a Human, and Humans saw things...differently.

It started when Túrin found his first gray hair. He was young, only in his twenties (which for Humans was early adulthood, Beleg reminded himself), and this occurrence was an alarming sign of aging and mortality. Not that the Quendi lived forever, but compared to the brevity of Human lifespans...

Beleg began to worry. This only aggravated Túrin, who protested he was still young. They fought; two days later, they made up. But the worry never fully left Beleg, who began to remember that this was not just his lover, but Túrin, son of Húrin and the lost heir of Dor-lómin.

Beleg's first mission after his promotion to Captain had been to find and rescue Túrin's mother, Morwen. His return to Dor-lómin was brief: the planet was overrun by Orctroopers, and all signs of its leaders were gone. He searched for a few years before Thingol declared the effort a lost cause: Morwen had disappeared. She was either hiding with her newborn baby, or they were both dead.

Túrin knew who he was. He remembered his parents, but he hated to talk of them. He was wholly invested in Doriath, and refused to consider his heritage. At least, not to Beleg's face.

The gray hair was a shock to Túrin's system, Beleg thought. He began to understand what it meant to be a Human, and what it meant to be the son of a Jedi.

Túrin delved into the lore of the Jedi. There were several Quendi Jedi survivors who had been fortunate enough to escape the Empire's wrath, but they were fearful of a Human asking them questions. Beleg went along with Túrin to visit them, but it did not prove very successful. Túrin vented his frustration to the face of one ancient Quendi warrior and was summarily thrown from her house. Beleg, frustrated as well, offered no sympathy. They fought; three days later, they made up.

Beleg was not a Jedi, nor was he sensitive to the Force. He knew the basics of the religion, as did everyone born before the Empire's takeover of the galaxy, but not enough to be helpful to Túrin. He was just as frustrated as Túrin was at his lack of knowledge.

Túrin took to using his lightsaber more than his blaster, and even trained Beleg in some of the basics. Beleg did tolerably well—being a lifelong Quendi warrior gave him agility similar to that of a Jedi mortal—but this was Túrin's weapon, not his. If Beleg was going to use a blade, he preferred good old-fashioned steel.

"Where did you learn to use this?" Beleg asked after one training session.

"My mother gave me her lightsaber when she sent me away," Túrin said grimly. "I didn't have my own before then, but I knew how to use one. When I got to Doriath, the king trained me further."

"The king?" Beleg said. He shook his head. "I don't know why I'm surprised. I know he and the queen are fond of you. I guess I missed out on most of your upbringing."

"I'm not complaining," Túrin said, kissing him until Beleg's cheeks began to glow. Grinning, he pushed Túrin away; it wasn't the time for that. "I get you now."

"Captain," said a snarky voice from the door. "The King's hologramming you."

Beleg sighed. "Thanks, Saeros," he said. He squeezed Túrin's hand and went to speak to Thingol.

The conversation was only about an hour long; Thingol mostly wanted to know about the attack frequencies. Beleg told him what he knew, but there was no discernable pattern. The attacks seemed to be random, not building up to something larger. The lack of connection made them hard to predict, but—

There was a knock on the door. "Captain!" shouted one of Beleg's warriors.

"Just a moment!" he called back. "I'm talking to the King!"

"Captain, it's important—"

Beleg closed the second door, shutting out the noise. "Sorry, my lord," he apologized to Thingol. "Like I was saying—the Empire's trying something new. It's too soon for Darth Morgoth to be planning another full-scale war. Besides, he'd want to target Nargothrond first—we've got the Girdle."

"It has been twenty years since the Nirnaeth Arnoediad," Thingol said, his holographic image frowning. "Melian has been having...premonitions."

Beleg resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The Queen's "premonitions" were not always correct. "Well, I'll keep my eyes out," he promised. "And I'll talk to Mablung. Perhaps there's something we're missing."

The muffled knock came again, and Beleg sighed. "I'd best deal with this, my lord," he said. "I'll deliver my next report in person."

"Very well," Thingol said. "You need not bring your whole force with you. In fact, it might be good for Túrin to take command for a while."

"Yes, my lord," Beleg agreed. "Farewell."

"Farewell, Captain."

Beleg opened his doors to see one of his warriors jump back. Her eyes were wide, and Beleg folded his arms. "What's so important you needed to interrupt the King?" he demanded.

"It's Túrin," she said. "He and Saeros were talking smack, and then Saeros challenged him to a duel, but—"

Ah, shit. Beleg took off, running back to the training rooms. He came just in time: Saeros was pinned to the floor, Túrin standing over him with his lightsaber at his throat.

"Take it back!" Túrin growled. "Or I'll—" He saw Beleg and froze.

"Túrin, get off him," Beleg ordered. Slowly, Túrin stepped back and sheathed his blade. Saeros scrambled to his feet, glaring at Túrin with hate in his eyes. "Saeros, what's all this about?"

"The Human thinks he's better than any of us!" Saeros snapped. "I offered to outshoot him in a duel, but when he  _lost_ —"

"You  _cheated_!" Túrin exclaimed.

"Enough!" Beleg rubbed his temples. "Túrin, Saeros, this has  _got_  to stop. One day you'll go too far and one of you will get killed. Apologize. You're both adults."

"He's no more than—"

"I said  _apologize_ , Saeros," Beleg hissed. "You're on cleaning duty for the next week."

"Captain—!"

"Week and a half," Beleg said. "Do you want me to make your life worse?"

Saeros scowled. "Apologies, Lieutenant Túrin." He bowed stiffly, then ran out of the room.

The rest of Beleg's warriors stared until he turned to glare at them. "Get out," he ordered. "I need to have a few words with my Lieutenant."

* * *

Things with Túrin went as Beleg could have predicted. They fought; four days later, they made up. Túrin formally apologized to Saeros and helped him with cleaning duty, though they remained resentful to each other.

A month later, it was time for Beleg to give his report to Thingol in person. He was worried about Túrin stepping in as Captain: most of the warriors respected him, but Saeros... He sighed. Túrin had been controlling himself much better lately, and he'd promised to be fair. Beleg had to trust him.

Besides, Saeros had finally requested to transfer to Mablung's station. Beleg was turning in his paperwork on this visit, which meant Saeros was officially a temporary problem. Things would be fine in his absence.

Beleg was only gone a week when he received the bad news.

Nellas burst into the King's meeting chambers, her hair mussed and her newborn son screaming in her arms. Beleg jumped to his feet, his hand at his blaster, expecting her to be followed by enemies.

"What is the matter, Nellas?" Thingol demanded.

Nellas hushed her baby, then turned to Thingol, her lips trembling. "I just received a message from—from Túrin. He's—" She burst into tears, her son following suit.

Beleg rushed over to help her, taking the baby in his arms. Thingol called in Melian, who descended upon Nellas and soothed her with her calming aura. When Nellas was in a better state of mind, she gratefully took her baby back and relayed Túrin's message.

"Túrin, he— I got a hologram recording from him just ten minutes ago," she said through hiccups. "He said I was the only one he could trust. That you all—sorry, that Beleg and your Majesties would never forgive him. He's..." She took a deep breath. "He's killed one of his warriors. Saeros. The rest of them revolted against him, so he took his ship and— _he left the Girdle._ "

Beleg sat back in his chair, stunned. This was... This was worse than he could have imagined. Leaving the Girdle was the most dangerous, stupid thing Túrin could have done... And  _why_  had he killed that simpleton Saeros?! Beleg  _knew_  he shouldn't have left Túrin in charge!

Thingol grimaced. "This is...not good."

"That is an understatement," Melian said softly.

"Someone must go to save him!" Nellas begged. "I'm sure there's more to it than this! And you'll only get a biased report from those mutineers—"

"I'm going after him," Beleg said. His mind was made up. It didn't matter  _what_  Túrin had done. He was going to bring his lover back.

"He may not want to return," Thingol warned.

"I don't care." Beleg was already thinking about what he needed to bring, what his disguise would be... "I'm not leaving him."

"I thought you might see it that way," Thingol said. "Come with me."

Thingol led Beleg to the armory. "You will need a ship," he said. "You can use the one you and Nellas used to spy in. And...I fear that Túrin will need help, not someone dragging him back here. I believe that his time in the safety of the Girdle is over."

"I'm prepared to deal with that," Beleg said evenly.

"Then take this." Thingol handed him a cylindrical object. Beleg realized with some shock that it was the hilt of a lightsaber. He turned it on and gasped: the blade was red, like a Sith's.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"It was made by the smith Eöl," Thingol said. "He was a great weapons-maker, but his morals... Well. He vanished years ago, but there are rumors his son resides in Gondolin with this blade's twin. Red is not all evil, after all. And it may prove helpful in deception. Túrin cannot carry his mother's weapon openly without bringing great danger to himself."

"This is for him, then?" Beleg asked. "I am no Jedi."

"I have used this blade for years, but it will be more help to him than me," Thingol agreed. "For your use, Beleg, you may choose any other weapon here. And I am afraid that if you do this, you are no longer a warrior of Doriath. If I were not King..." He sighed. "I may be tempted to follow you. I love Túrin dearly. After our Lúthien..."

Beleg understood. "Thank you, my lord," he murmured. "For me and Túrin both."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beleg's search for Turin doesn't go as well as he'd hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B2MeM may be over, but I didn't finish the last week of prompts so I'm posting them late! This was for 3/25; the prompt was "battalion/unsure/headstart/bliss" from the Four Words card.
> 
> I have the rest of the story outlined; it will be 7 chapters in total, so 3 more after this! (I got more invested in this AU than I anticipated...) That means the tags for this fic should stop changing so much, lol. I'm a sucker for a good OT3, so get pumped for some angst & shenanigans between Beleg, Turin, & Androg!
> 
> I moved the Túrin-burning-down-Brodda’s-house scene to before the bandits instead of after Nargothrond because it made more sense narratively for this fic, and also I’m only following Beleg’s side of things so we wouldn’t get to see that scene anyway.
> 
> Also, I retconned that Stormtroopers are called Orctroopers in this AU because why not!

Túrin did his best to make himself untrackable, but Beleg knew him better than anyone, and despite his headstart Beleg wasn't far behind him. He followed Túrin from the Girdle to the several uninhabited planets surrounding Doriath before he lost track of him. Beleg thought long and hard about where Túrin would go next, but though he wanted to deny it, he knew there was only one place that made sense.

Beleg had not been back to Dor-lómin since his failed attempt to rescue Túrin's mother, Morwen. The planet was desolate, overrun by Orctroopers and bandits. If any rebels remained there, they were in hiding. Beleg would have no allies there—and neither would Túrin.

Dor-lómin had once been governed by Túrin's family, and Quendi kings before them. From their seat of power in the mountains of Hithlum, they slowly united their small planet under one banner, which the Quendi had never been able to achieve. But then the Nirnaeth Arnoediad came, and the Empire conquered the entire Beleriand system save for a few hidden or protected kingdoms. Darth Morgoth's forces left the planet desolate; they killed the Jedi leaders of Dor-lómin, the only survivor of their order—Túrin himself—whisked away to the rebel stronghold of Doriath

Túrin would return there now that he had exiled himself from safety. Beleg had only to find him on that small planet and convince him to return home. But with the red lightsaber and Thingol's warning weighing on his belt and mind respectively, Beleg thought this might be a quest doomed to failure.

And whatever happened, Beleg knew in his heart that nothing both death would separate him from Túrin again.

* * *

Beleg landed on Dor-lómin after narrowly avoiding several Imperial ships. Thankfully, he was familiar with his own ship and the surrounding area: they were both the same he and Nellas had used when they first encountered Túrin on their spy mission so long ago.

It took several months of careful spying for Beleg to discover the stronghold that had once been the land of Húrin's people. Hithlum was a vast, empty country now

A fearful remnant of those Humans whispered of an Imperial underling who had come to rule over them. This servant of the Empire had ruled for nearly twenty years after Lady Morwen and her children had disappeared. Then, not four months ago, a crazed man had appeared in the crumbling city, killing the Imperial governor and burning his headquarters to the ground. The man had vanished into the night just like Lady Morwen had, leaving the people terrified of Imperial retribution—but that had happened months prior, and no new underlings had come.

It was obvious that this man was Túrin, searching for his mother in the last place they had been together. Beleg was troubled to hear this tale—especially the news of Morwen's disappearance—but he was here to find the son, not the mother. He pressed on.

Various homesteads and villages had sighted a wild man matching Túrin's description in the aftermath of the fire, but after a few weeks of fruitless searching, Beleg's leads dried up. Cursing, he examined all he had learned, hoping to discover something— _anything_ —that he had missed before. Anything that could lead him back to Túrin.

It had been so _long_ , by Human count, since Beleg had last seen his Túrin. He lost track of time, his lover taking up all his thoughts. For all Beleg was Quendi, everything about Túrin made him irrationally Human-like. He missed Túrin, missed their moments of quiet bliss amidst rebellion and defense, missed the trust and love they'd built up over the years.

To make his worries worse, he could not contact Nellas or Thingol for news of how Doriath fared. It was too dangerous; being a Quend in Imperial territory was perilous enough. The last thing he needed was something tying him back to the rebellion. Though their species had a long and sordid history, especially those damn Noldor, very few allied themselves with Darth Morgoth, and they were looked upon with suspicion throughout the Empire.

It wasn't until Beleg's ship was stolen that he realized there were more dangers on Dor-lómin than just Imperial officials and Orctroopers.

Bandits. He'd known there were bands of raiders, bandits, looters, whatever—he'd known they roamed these lands, but he'd shrugged them off as desperate people like the ones he had met back at the burnt-down headquarters.

But stealing ships?  _That_  took some doing. They were more serious—more  _organized_ —than hungry locals. Something was up.

Beleg, now shipless, had a new goal. It would be impossible to find Túrin until he had his resources back. He needed to hunt down the bandits and steal his ship back. (He only hoped that Túrin had not been waylaid by raiders as well. He pushed aside his fear and unease as best he could; he had to focus on the task at hand.)

The bandits were ship-smart: they had turned off his tracking device as soon as they were safely away from the site of the theft. Beleg was better at tracking ships than he was people, however, and was able to remotely re-enable it so subtly the thieves wouldn't notice.

He found the bandits halfway across the planet, and rented a cruiser to take him there. He ditched his ride as soon as he entered the forest where the raiders hid, reverting to the woodsman skills he'd picked up in the forests of Brethil. The bandits concealed themselves well, but Beleg had grown up in that little wood on Doriath, and though he'd achieved military success, he never forgot his roots.

It took nearly a month for him to locate them and concoct a plan to steal back his ship. He waited until the dead of night before attempting his heist: even if he was only dealing with some rogues and not a battalion of Orctroopers, he would be in peril if they caught him. They vastly outnumbered him, and no amount of skill could save him from thirty ruffians.

Quiet as he could, Beleg snuck into his ship. No alarms went off. He was the rightful owner of this vessel, and he could work it better than any of these bandits could. Still, starting the engine and engaging the cloaking device was impossibly noisy. As long as he was quick, he could blast off and take some time to hide out in hyperspace before returning to a different part of the planet and continuing his search for Túrin.

Just as he was about to take off, a shot of blastfire hit him square in the back. Beleg screamed and fell to the floor, unprepared for the pain. Quendi had a natural resistance to plasma damage, but a shot like that still  _hurt_ , especially when he wasn't expecting it.

Before he knew what was happening, Beleg was tied up and dragged off the ship. A grim sight awaited him: at least thirty bandits, all Human, glared down at him with their blasters drawn. The largest of them stood shirtless and scowling before him, a coiled whip hanging from his belt.

Beleg locked eyes with him and gulped. He was in danger—there was little mercy in this man.

"Who are you?" the man demanded.

Beleg said nothing.

The man grunted, unfurling the whip. As he did so, Beleg noted that he alone carried no blaster.

"I took this from the last intruder I killed," the man growled. "It's an electric whip. They're rare, and deadly. If you don't give me your name, you'll find that out first hand."

Beleg refused to cower in fear, but he muttered, "I am Saeros."

"Of...?"

"Of—" He cast around, frantically racking his mind for the name of a Quendi stronghold other than Doraith— "Of Himring."

"Bullshit." The leader cracked his whip, and a trail of electricity snaked across it. "Your kind haven't been in Himring since before the Dreadful Battle. One more chance."

"My name is Cúthalion," he said, giving his surname only, "and I am from Brethil."

A ripple of surprise spread throughout the crowd. Beleg realized immediately that he had made a poor choice—but how did these Humans know of the little forest of Brethil?

The leader cracked his whip again, lighting up the night sky with sparks. The bandits hushed, save for one: a short, muscly woman who pushed her way to stand at the leader's elbow.

"Brethil? On Doriath?" she demanded.

The leader whipped at her feet, knocking her to the ground. " _I'm_  interrogating this thief, not you!"

"You're not the Captain, Andróg," she hissed, kicking at his feet. He stumbled, but didn't fall.

"Captain's been gone for a week," Andróg snarled, "and he put  _me_  in charge while he's gone."

The woman shot him a glare, but crawled back into the crowd without fighting any further.

"How do you know of Brethil?" Beleg couldn't help himself from asking. It didn't make sense that they had heard of such a small, rural spot on the planet protected by Queen Melian's Girdle. Unless they had run across someone from there... Or someone whose  _lover_  was from there—

The whip and its electric pulse slashed across Beleg's chest. He swallowed his scream as best he could, but he couldn't hide the pain. He was at Andróg's mercy.

" _I'm_  asking the questions, Cúthalion of Brethil," he growled. "Why are you here, stealing our ship?"

"It is  _my_  ship— _you_  stole it from  _me_!" Beleg cried. "I only wanted it back so I could—" He shut up. If they  _had_  waylaid Túrin...

"Could what?" Andróg cracked the whip threateningly. "Answer me!"

"I'm looking for a friend." Beleg suddenly remembered that while they'd taken his blaster, Thingol's red lightsaber still hung at his belt. If he could reach it from his tied up position... If only he were a Jedi like Túrin, with the Force at his command!

"And who's this friend? He from Doriath too?"

"No, from Dor-lómin." Beleg's fingers brushed the blade's hilt—he was close—

"Hmm." Andróg narrowed his eyes. "Wait—what're you doing with your ha—"

Beleg grasped the lightsaber and turned it on, slashing through his bonds. The bandits scrambled backwards, even Andróg with his whip, shouting and raising their blasters.

Beleg was still surrounded; if he attacked, they could shoot him from behind. He held out the lightsaber, turning in slow circles, but he did not move to use the weapon.

"Let me take my ship and go," he reasoned. "I won't hurt you."

Andróg stared, mesmerized, at the glowing blade. " _We_  could hurt  _you_ ," he rasped. "You're—you're a Jedi! If the Empire—"

"No," Beleg said. "I'm not a Jedi, I'm just holding onto this for my friend.  _He's_  the Jedi."

"Andróg, the Captain's got—" hissed one warrior, but a glare from Andróg shut them up.

"We are not letting you go." Andróg sneered. "We outnumber you. Kill one of us and five more will shot you down—and if you're  _not_  a Jedi, your fancy blade can't help you much."

Beleg breathed deep, centering himself the way Túrin had taught him. He could not connect with the Force like a true Jedi, but if he had to fight his way out, he needed a cool head.

He turned the blade horizontally, gritting his teeth. "I am taking my ship now, or else my Jedi friend will have something to say about this."

"Shoot him," Andróg commanded.

The bandits hesitated for a fraction of a second, and that was all Beleg needed. Their wariness of Andróg as a leader gave him time to strike down two warriors before him and block most of the ensuing blastfire. Beleg stumbled backward, ignoring the pain in his back as the ruffians behind him attacked. He stumbled against the tree to which they'd tied him, deflecting the shots as best he could, but this was not his preferred weapon and he had to something before one well-placed blast killed him.

Not pausing to think, Beleg dove forward, knocking Andróg to the ground. His whip flew several feet away, useless, and Beleg raised the lightsaber to his throat.

"Stop!" he shouted. "Stop, or he dies!"

The blastfire ceased. Beleg's skin blistered all over with plasma wounds—if he were Human, he'd be dead.

Andróg let out a choked laugh. "I'm not the Captain." He coughed. "They'll let me die before they let you escape. The real Captain will be back any time—"

Beleg ignored him, pressing the blade closer to his throat to shut him up. He reached out for Andróg's whip with his free hand, not moving his eyes from his captive's face. Slowly, he stood, wielding both weapons in a warning as he edged toward the ship.

"Let me go," he called out, "and you all live. If you take me down... I think I can take most of you with me." He cracked the whip, and the electricity snaked from its tip to the intense red heat of the lightsaber, making it spit deadly fire onto the ground.

"He's bluffing," Andróg said, staggering to his feet. "Fire!"

Beleg raised the weapons, preparing to kill Andróg first if the bandits fired, but before anything else could happen, a blue blade clashed against the red one he held, and he felt some invisible force—no,  _the_  Force—rip the whip from his clutch.

"Stop!" bellowed an achingly familiar voice. "Everyone, weapons down!"

"But, Captian Neithan—" Andróg protested. He fell silent as the whip coiled around around him, forcing him to his knees, though no visible being wielded it.

Beleg sheathed the lightsaber, trembling as he fell to his knees just like Andróg. With the red glow gone, the shine of the other lightsaber was all that lit the forest, bathing the face before him in cold, glorious blue. He could have wept with joy.

"Túrin," he breathed. "It's you."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


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